And So it Goes
by Abvj
Summary: Harry has chosen to protect those he cares about and avenge the ones he has lost. Ginny just doesn't want to let go. Herein lies the aftermath. Post HBP. H/G with bits of R/Hr. Chapter five up.
1. Prologue

_**Disclaimer: **The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this story and it is being used for entertainment purposes only._

**Author's Notes:** A several part piece about Harry's summer right before he goes off on the search for the horcruxes and hunt down Voldermort. Centered around the wedding at the Weasleys. Multi ship and POV. This part is the intro of sort, which is why it's rather short. Post HBP; spoilers abound. Read, Review, and enjoy.

* * *

_Prologue: _

Summer was, for Harry, the same as it normally was: Hot, humid, and as miserable as ever.

Time with the Dursleys was spent in his room, staring out the window and reading and re- reading the articles and newspapers that were being sent to him through owl. Letters went unopened and ignored. He had chosen to spend his time, the excess amount of it that he had, much like he had the summer before. Carefully and wastefully, watching the window every night as the sun set and sometimes he even caught it rise the next morning.

Sleep was a foreign thing to him by then, and when it did claim him he dreamed of what was yet to come. Often he woke in a cold sweat, breathing harshly and more scared than he had ever been in his life. Much like last summer, Harry would sometimes find his way back over to his window, his face flush against it watching and waiting.

For what he did not know.

The only difference was this time around Dumbledore wouldn't be coming to rescue him. Harry had come to terms with the fact that Dumbledore, who had for so long been such a big part of his life, was no longer there. Like his parents, Sirius and probably even Hogwarts, Harry would never see his gray haired friend with his half moon glasses again. He would never hear his sage advice, his warm, calming voice.

He would never enter the spiral staircase behind the gargoyle and see him sitting there waiting.

Chances were he would never enter that staircase again, and Harry could not decide which thought was worse. The one about never returning to Hogwarts or the one about losing Dumbledore-- another person who, in large part, had given his life for him and the entire wizarding world.

A noble cause done by a great man who was taken long before his time.

Snape had killed him, right in front of his very eyes, and the fire of rage still burned within Harry with no chance of quenching it.

Just thinking that thought, even it were a mere passing one, made his stomach turn with grief. Made him sadder, angrier, and yet, even though he was dispassionate about almost everything it also made him more resolved. Thinking about Dumbledore, thinking about Sirius and his parents made the adrenaline he could taste in his mouth flow rapidly through his veins. Consume him.

Months ago, years ago even, what boiled inside of him just beneath the surface would have scared him. Terrified him. Now, much like numerous other things in his life, Harry was indifferent towards it.

It did not even matter. It was just another thing driving him that much farther, that much harder towards what he knew laid before him. What he knew was left to do.

Life as he knew it was over for Harry Potter.

Harry knew that he was no longer the Boy Who Lived, he was instead the man who was going to do what no one else could. He was the one person in the wizarding World who could do what almost every other witch and wizard feared to do. Harry Potter was _the chosen one_, sure, but that didn't matter in the least.

What mattered was that Harry Potter knew what had to be done. Knew what risks would be involved (Ron, Hermione, The Weasleys… Ginny… His life) and yet still he had chosen to do it. He chose to defend those he cared about and avenge the ones he had lost.

It could, quite possibly, turn out to be the worst choice he had ever made. But he had made it. He had given Dumbledore his word, and if there was one thing the greatest wizard he had ever met had taught him, it was that one should never, ever go back on their word.

With an anguished sigh, Harry moved the numerous copies of _The Daily Prophet _off his bed, not caring in the least as they dropped soundlessly on to the even messier floor. He collapsed on to it, feeling the weight he felt on his shoulders lessen slightly as they rested against the uncomfortable mattress. Turning on his side he continued to stare out the window and into a blackened sky.

Somewhere close to number four Privet Drive a lamp post flickered. Once, then twice, and then went out completely. His heart leapt in his chest, pounded fiercely against his rib cage. Despite himself he started to raise on his elbows to get a better look. It was stupid though, and made him feel even more stupid as he laid back down staring at the ceiling this time instead of out the window.

He saw, out of the corner of his eye, the lamp post light flicker back on weakly, and his heart fell even though every bone in his body knew it should not have. It would be a few more miserable days until he could escape to the Burrow one last time. Until he could finally be surrounded by a love that was suppose to protect him but he knew so little about.

Thinking of the Weasleys then, Harry couldn't even find it in himself to smile even the slightest. Thoughts involving the red haired family with all their quirks and abnormalities that he loved and cherished both usually brought a smile to his face. Made him feel better. The smallest amount of surprise rose within him and then quickly disappeared when he felt nothing.

Thinking of Ron and Hermione made him feel guilty and afraid. Made him think of ways to try and convince them to stay behind after the wedding, to live their lives while he tried to fulfill the destiny he was born with.

Thinking of Ginny-- all innocence and beauty-- as memories flashed through his mind of holding hands and stolen kisses, a pit in his stomach appeared and threatened to swallow him whole.

His heart beat against his chest rapidly, his eyes closed and he could almost picture her, right there, comforting him like no other could. It made him sad, thinking of Ginny, thinking about all that he'd have to give up and he pushed those thoughts out of his head. Tried to forget them so he'd never have to think about them again.

So the pit in his stomach would disappear completely and leave him with something resembling peace.

Harry closed his weary eyes and waited for himself to fall into a restless sleep. He eventually did, a bit easier than he had in days, and in doing so his dreams were filled with images both wanted and forbidden.

Harry dreamed of his father clutching a golden snitch in his hand. He dreamed of black dogs and half moons. He dreamed of a girl with fiery red hair clutching his hand in her own, kissing him like he had never been kissed before. Harry dreamed horrifying images of white tombs bigger than life stacked one upon the other, closing in on him.

As the skies darkened and a single ray of moonlight shone throughout the messy room, Harry Potter was no longer the Boy Who Lived. He no longer had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was just a boy, barely seventeen, with a jagged edged scar on his forehead dreaming of things missed and impossible both.

(TBC)


	2. Back to the Burrow

**Author's Notes: **In reference to the comment involving James as a seeker/chaser. I am very much aware that James was a chaser, the snitch image Harry has is in reference to the memory of Snape's he has in the chapter "Snape's Worse Memory" in OoTP where his father has nicked the snitch. Sorry for any confusion guys, just wanted to let you know where I'm coming from. Read, Review and most of all enjoy.

* * *

_Chapter One: _

Days passed slowly, time ticked by each second slower than the first, as if it had a mind of it's own or had been bewitched to do so. It was a miraculous thing Harry found, time that was, it flew when you did not want it to and took forever to pass when you were watching it too closely. His body was itching to leave the Dursleys but he had found, much like all the other things in his life, his heart wasn't really in it.

Summers before he would have counted down the minutes before he could go to the burrow and been ecstatic about it.

Now all it felt like to him was the countdown to his impending future-- the one filled with destiny and horcruxes-- finally caught up with him. He was not happy about it in the least, but Harry had found that he was not really happy about much anyway.

He had been surprised to see Charlie instead of Mr. Weasley, and a pang shot through his chest when he remembered summers past when Ron and the twins had come to rescue him, and then, just last summer with Dumbledore. They were memories he didn't want nor need and he pushed them out of his mind as promptly as they entered.

It didn't feel as liberating as he though it would. Leaving the Dursleys once and for all. He had thought, just maybe, he would feel a tinge of sadness as he passed through the front door of number four Privet drive. But he didn't. What he felt was numbness, indifference. The least of his problems were the Dursley's and while he could practically imagine the magnitude of the party that would ensue as soon as he left, Harry could not even find it in himself to be happy.

Happy about leaving the one place he had always despised.

"Well…" he said quietly, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon just within earshot. "This'll be it then, I imagine."

He could practically see his uncle bursting with joy.

"Take care."

Harry's voice was casual and conversational and void of any other emotion. Charlie waved his wand wordlessly at the pile of luggage a few feet away from him and within a mere second it disappeared. No hugs were exchanged, no pleasantries and without a second thought Harry stepped closer to Charlie, latched onto his arm and waited for him to apparate signifying the last and final time Harry would ever see what was left of his actual family.

Of course Harry knew that the Weasleys and Hermione were more family to him than the people standing in front of him then, but there was something so final about the moment. Something so irrevocable that for the first time in days he actually felt something resembling an emotion other than indifference.

Aunt Petunia was the last part of his mother, the last true living relative he had. His last real, tangible link to the mother that give her life to save his own. Even though they were forced to take him in, treated him awfully and locked him in a cupboard under the stairs for most of his childhood, the tiniest, almost miniscule amount of sadness did pass through him for the briefest of moments.

He may never see the Dursley's again. Ever. And it may not be because he chose not to either. It may be because he couldn't see them again. Could be because along this path he was destined to take he may meet an untimely end just like Sirius, Dumbledore and his parents.

Harry watched as Aunt Petunia twitched, as though she wanted to say something, to perhaps even hug him, and it was quite clear that no one was surprised when she did not move at all in the end.

And that was it, that was the end. With a single nod to Charlie they were off. Moments later after darkness and that quick, squeezing feeling he had become used to over the past year, the two landed with a quiet thud a good enough distance away from The Burrow.

"Sorry 'bout this, Harry," Charlie said genially, "the ministry has been crazy lately, setting up all sorts of protection charms, this is the closest we've been able to apparate all summer."

"It's no problem," Harry waved a hand in response and watched as his luggage, which up until that point had been sitting a few feet away in the dewy grass, began to float and lead the way toward the house.

"It's quite a mess around here," the fiery haired Weasley said after a long pause, "With the wedding and everything. Mums been in a frenzy and everyone's been rowing… I'd be careful if I were you, certain people," he said it with an amount of knowing in his tone, "are on a war path."

Before Harry could say anything further, the youngest Weasley brother, clad in tan trousers and a rather fresh looking t-shirt (for Ron, that is) came bounding over to them. A wiry smile crossed Harry's features, assuming that Hermione must have, like usual, arrived before him. It had been no secret that his two best friend's relationship had almost, very nearly taken a very different turn last term and while he had feared it at first, Harry couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if it did.

Understandably things couldn't get much worse, so even if things did escalate this summer and in the following months the outcome had to be somewhat good.

Good considering what was going on around them anyway.

"Thank Merlin you're here," Ron sighed dramatically and fell into step with Harry as Charlie walked in front of them and towards the house, "I'm going insane. It's all wedding _this _and wedding _that_… and I swear, Harry, I am never getting married for as long as I live."

It was a genuine surprise, Harry found, that there was something that existed in the world outside of the turmoil and pain that so many people were enduring because of Voldermort and his band of death eaters. Casualty rates climbed each day, and Harry had checked the newspaper periodically to see if he saw anybody familiar among the listed.

Bill and Fleur, in his opinion, picked an awful time to get married. Yet being there, being at the Burrow, made him remember that there were other things out there besides Voldermort. He had honestly forgotten what it was like before all this had started.

"Oh," Ron continued, despite the fact that Harry had not heard the last thing he said, "and Ginny has been ridiculous. Arguing with everyone, the only person she's talking to is Bill and even that is scheduled to change at any moment."

At the mention of Ginny, Harry's heart sped up a considerable amount, his palms sweating furiously. For the life of him, seeing her there that summer for the wedding hadn't even crossed his mind during the various times he had thought about it. She had been, for such a long time, such a regular occurrence in his life that he didn't even think twice about it.

Yet that was no longer true. Ginny was no longer Ginny. No longer Ron's sweet and innocent sister. Ginny was more than that. Less than that. Ginny was everything he wanted and couldn't have, but was still within arms reach. Only he would never reach for it, and he knew it. They both knew it.

Harry swallowed and tried to clear the sudden lump in his throat. "Oh yeah?"

"My mum and her can't even stand to be in the same room, I've tried talking to her, Hermione…" Ron paused as he looked over at Harry for a moment as if he were going to say something more. Ask for something, but he obviously thought better of it because as soon as he looked at Harry, he looked away, trudging forward. "She won't listen. Stubburn as a bloody mule that one."

"Hermione's here then?" Harry asked casually, desperate for a change of subject and suddenly very worried about what would happen when he crossed paths with the youngest Weasley.

Anticipation sparked within him at the thought.

Ron stared at Harry for a long moment, "Yeah," he said slowly, "Been here since start of summer."

"That's good."

"I guess it is," Ron appeased and looked at his friend out of the corner of his eye, "I think all this wedding nonsense is starting to drive her a little bit insane too."

"Hermione had never been a big fan of Fleur's to begin with," Harry said emotionlessly as the Burrow loomed closer and closer with every step the two took.

"Mum said you can stay in Fred and George's room," Ron said, pushing the front door open.

The burrow was as it always was-- crowded, warm and friendly and smelt of a familiarity Harry yearned to remember. Nothing was out of place, everything was as it should be, and yet despite it all everything still felt different. The mood was off. And even with Ron who seemed to choose his words ever so carefully, it felt like home, and as Harry breathed in the loving atmosphere he felt himself become happier than he had in weeks.

He made his way wordlessly up the stairs behind Ron, surveying his surroundings with as much scrutiny he could manage and tried to appear as subtle as possible. Harry knew what he was looking for the entire time without even realized it. And with a look over his shoulder, judging by the look on his face, Ron had too.

A flash of long, fiery red hair could be seen in the far off distance and Harry's heart sped up to an impossible rate.

**xXx**

Ron collapsed onto the bed with a heavy sigh. He was tired, his bones were tired, and to top it all off he was worried. Worried about Harry, and the future. Worried about what lays ahead for the three of them to conquer. Worried that his best friend no longer seemed to be his best friend. He was suddenly the Harry they all knew in their fifth year and as much as it pained Ron to think it, he really, really hated that Harry.

Blue eyes turned towards the brunette sitting in a chair close by, her nose stuck in a book like always. It wasn't obvious to the average passerby, but Ron knew Hermione was not really reading. Ron knew Hermione, much like everyone else, was just as worried as he.

"That bad?"

He ran his hands over his face, "Worse."

Hermione let out a long, hollow sigh, "He is still Harry, Ron."

"He doesn't seem like it, he doesn't seem like Harry at all."

Ron could feel her brown eyes boring into him, "How so?" Her voice showed the concern he often heard when she talked about her friends, and, if Ron was not mistaken, she sounded a little bit frightened too.

"He just isn't Harry, you know," He kept saying that as if it got easier to live with each time. "It's hard to put into words," Ron looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to cut in and was genuinely surprised when she didn't. "It's hard to see him like this when I think about how happy he was last term… with Ginny…"

The frown that overcame her beautiful features made his heart ache, "I know. I'm worried about how that is going to go down too," she said sympathetically.

It had been a long winded conversation between the two of them-- the one that involved Harry and Ginny and the all the possible outcomes there might be when they finally crossed paths this week. Hermione believed Harry did the right and noble thing, ending things with Ginny, Ron isn't so sure. Harry had a knack for wanting to do the right thing and only ending up hurting himself in the long run.

Ginny could be there for Harry in ways he and Hermione could not.

Ron figured he just wanted to make sure his best friend was taken care of, because he knew there were ways Harry needed help and guidance and comfort-- ways that Ron and Hermione could never provide Harry with.

Friendship was very important to the two people sitting in the warm room, who looked at each other sympathetically with frightened thoughts raging in their minds. Yet it was no secret that sometimes, in the midst of sleepless nights and dark daydreams, they both wondered whether they had made the wrong choice.

That, when they had been given the chance to turn back, they should have.

It did not matter though. It was too late to do anything about it anyway. And deep down they knew they would never even attempt to try.

(TBC)

Author's Notes: Next (longer) chapter should be up later today or early tomorrow.


	3. Pig's News

**Author's Note: **Confrontations are coming, revelations will be made, and heated snogging will take place very soon. Just bare with me here for the few tedious chapters of back story and plot set up. Read, Review, and enjoy.

* * *

_Chapter Two: _

The Weasley's were trying impossibly hard to put on a brave face, not only for Harry but for themselves as well. Harry had avoided them most of the day and most of them had avoided him as well. Besides Mrs. Weasley's initial hugs and attention she was off to deal with wedding issues, and Hermione and Ron, obviously having taken their cues from their best friend, had stayed mostly to themselves as well. Fred and George were no doubt at the shop, Charlie had disappeared some hours before upon first coming home, and despite Harry's disappointment, Ginny had yet to show her face.

Nobody seemed up to socializing, even despite the joyous occasion that was due to take place the next day.

While summers past had seen some pretty awful events, this was different somehow. There had been a war raging outside for almost two years, but somehow, with the loss of Dumbledore and the threat of Hogwarts not reopening, it was almost like it was more real. Like war was not just something you read about in newspapers and heard through word of mouth.

It had all of a sudden gotten so close you could taste it.

He finally emerged from his appointed room after a full afternoon of nothing but empty thoughts and a short bit of dreamless sleep, casting a hollow glance towards Ginny's closed door as he made his way towards the stairs.

"Well, well," an oddly jovial voice came from afar as Harry's feet hit the landing at the bottom of the stairs, "Look who finally decided to join the land of the living."

"Leave him alone, guys," Harry could not see Hermione but somehow he knew she was rolling her eyes from the tone of her voice.

"About bloody time," Fred continued despite the interruption, "We were just about to notify the guards and send them to go fetch you--"

"--Make sure you were still breathing and all that," George grinned with humor, the sight a pleasant surprise.

It should not have been, if anyone could find it in them to find humor in light of the most recent developments, it would have to be the twins. Harry smiled and felt some of the tension edge away at the twins' presence; they always had a knack for making the best out of the worst situations. Or else, being completely oblivious to whatever was going on around them.

The five of them lounged around the living room for a while, discussing the shop (much to Hermione's dismay who had obviously heard it already and was in no mood to hear it again) and quidditch. It was much too hot to go outside and play, although it was quite clear all of them yearned to do so and they were all much too lazy to do anything else-- including anything on the entire list of things Mrs. Weasley had left them to do in preparation for the following day.

"It's ridiculous," George had groaned when he had looked at the parchment long list. "This whole wedding is turning into a bloody disaster."

"Clean the dishes, dust the furniture," Fred did a ridiculously amusing impression of his mother, "we don't even live here anymore--"

"-- and the woman has us doing chores."

"Where is Bill and Fleur, anyway?" Harry asked as his eyes scanned over the parchment that had been thrust in his direction.

"Fleur is out with mum doing Merlin knows what," Ron rolled his eyes, "Bill is, despite what everyone else thinks, getting his robes fitted."

"That is because he is a procrastinator," Hermione said from behind her copy of _The Daily Prophet, _"Everyone has been after him for months--"

"He's a man, Hermione," Ron cut her off prematurely, "What do you expect?"

Hermione grinned teasingly, "Nothing, I guess."

"Anyway," Fred interjected, obviously having sensed the argument simmering underneath Ron's not so friendly glare, "you should have seen the look on Bill's face when he found out he couldn't spend the night here--"

"Apparently," George continued, "It's superstition or some bullocks like that."

"I honestly couldn't understand exactly what Fleur was saying," Fred grinned devilishly, "I didn't really care either… she just looked so good saying it."

"It's a muggle tradition," Harry told them, laughing as a dreamy look crossed Fred's features at the mention of Fleur. The Weasley men had always taken a liking to her, it was always the girls who had a problem with it. It was probably a good thing that Mrs. Weasley had been at least a bit more tolerable towards her future daughter in law. "Bad luck or something like that."

It felt good, Harry thought, as he watched Ron and Hermione tease each other and Fred and George tease them for teasing each other. It was a never-ending cycle that Harry reveled in. It made him feel more happy, lighter. It was almost freeing to be there like that with them, carefree and chatting like nothing else mattered in the world.

He seriously doubted that if it were not for the twins presence, the conversation would have been steered in a completely opposite direction and Harry had never been more happy to see the red haired twins in his life.

That was, of course, until they brought up the second most dreadful subject: Ginny.

It was quite clear that Fred and George had no idea what had went on last term between them, and judging by the cautious looks both Ron and Hermione sent his way at the mention of her name, it appeared as though they had expected something other than the cool indifference he somehow managed to show those around him as the conversation turned to his ex girlfriend.

Harry swallowed at thought, realized that, even though everything that was going on around them, it was a nauseous feeling that consumed him at that title. _Ex girlfriend_. It sounded so final. So definite.

He hated it immediately.

"You should have seen it, Harry," Fred continued his face bursting with pride as he retold the events of the most recent argument between the youngest Weasley and her mother. "It was brilliant--"

"I'm selling tickets and popcorn to the next one, honestly, the way those two go at it--"

Fred cut him off and resumed his story telling, "Ginny has been after mom about school--"

"Ron has told mom that he doesn't plan on going back--"

"Although I don't think she truly acknowledged it," Fred continued as Harry sent a curious look toward Ron who merely shrugged in response. "But anyway, no one has made a final decision about whether Hogwarts will be reopening next term--"

"And mom let it slip that even if by some chance school did reopen, she wasn't real keen on the idea of Ron and Ginny going back," George looked positively busting with amusement as he told this story.

"To which Ginny got all up in a huff that nowhere is safe so why keep her here instead of at Hogwarts--"

"Well lets just say Mum didn't respond too kindly to that," Ron interjected from across the room.

"So Ginny said if she wasn't going back to Hogwarts than she wanted to come live with Fred and I--"

"--which got us in bunches of trouble with both mum and dad--"

"And Mum replied that the only way that would happen was over her dead body--"

"--To which Ginny not so smartly replied that by the looks of things that may not be so impossible," Fred shook his head and amazement, "Mum didn't stop crying for an entire day."

"And besides shouting off chores at us when we are around, she hasn't talked to us since," George said gloomily. "Says we're encouraging the situation."

"Yes, well," Hermione interjected stiffly, obviously having sided with Mrs. Weasley as she finally took her nose out of the newspaper and set it to the side, "Now Ginny and Mrs. Weasley aren't talking--"

"Unless they're arguing," Ron told Harry.

"And all of that could have been avoided--"

All three Weasley men cut Hermione off simultaneously, "If Ginny would have kept her bloody mouth shut."

Hermione huffed indignantly, sending a sideways glance towards Harry who caught it just at the last minute out of the corner of his eye. It was clear she wanted to say more, but did not dare. Which was just fine by him, all this talk revolving around Ginny was starting to make him just a bit more than uncomfortable.

**xXx**

"All I'm saying," Mrs. Weasley's voice boomed throughout the house, "Is a little baby's breath and we can charm the daisies--"

"Mum," it was Bills voice then, teetering upon the edge of irritation as he sighed, "Can we drop it?"

They entered the living room, where not so surprisingly everyone was still lounging about, Hermione and Ron on one couch, sharing another newspaper, as George and Fred went over inventory on another and Harry, well Harry was not doing much of anything, just sort of staring off into space in his own little world.

Everybody seemed to have noticed their arrival, but nobody moved to do anything about it.

Mrs. Weasley sniffed the air unhappily and looked away from Bill, "I'll ask Fleur when she returns, I know she'll agree with me."

Bill, whose gashes and scars were still rather strikingly red and glaring, mumbled something incoherent under his breath and was about to retort when he noticed the five lounging about. Apparently his noticing caught the eye of Mrs. Weasley as well for she screeched so loud everyone within the room nearly leapt out of their respective seats.

"Do not tell me," She started, hands on hips with fury, "That you lot have sat here all day when I gave you a list of things to do," her eyes caught wind of Harry and she smiled genially, "Of course not you dear," she said which made Ron snort and mimic her words which resulting in a smack on the arm from Hermione. "But the rest of you," she gasped, obviously overcome by anger, "I told you…"

"Oh mum," George rolled his eyes, "Relax. We are a bunch of well trained wizards--"

"Fred I honestly don't care what you are--" Mrs. Weasley cut of George's reply and in the process drowned out Hermione's 'and witches' add in.

"That's awful clear," George replied, humor in his voice, "I'm not Fred. I'm George. "

"Oh for Merlin sakes," Mrs. Weasley through her hands up in defeat. "Where is your sister?"

"Hasn't shown her face all day," one of the twins piped up.

It was clear to anyone who was paying attention the slight look of sadness that overcame Mrs. Weasley's face then, and then, how hard she tried to hide it.

"Which is a good thing, if you ask me," the other one added in, which resulted in a hit to the back of the head from Bill.

"Behave yourself," Bill added in with a fierce glare as he swung a long bag, which was presumably holding his dress robes, over his shoulders. "I'll go fetch her, Mum," he added over his shoulder as he exited the living room.

"It's Bill's wedding," Ron spoke in agitation, "why can't he de-gnome the garden?"

Mrs. Weasley glared at her youngest son, "Because I asked you to do it, Ronald." With that she turned on her heel quickly muttering the entire way about how she had asked him days ago to do it and how he had, not so surprisingly, yet to do it. "I'm starting supper," she called over her shoulder, "when it's done that garden better be completely and utterly gnome free or so help me Merlin…" Her booming voice trailed off as she obviously entered another part of the house.

All eyes turned, highly amused, towards Ron.

"Yeah, Ronald," George and Fred teased simultaneously.

And almost as if reading their minds, Mrs. Weasley's voice came booming throughout the house once more, "That means all of you. Now!"

With much hesitation and reluctance, all five of them began to trudge out into the sweltering heat, complaining the entire way.

Miraculously, almost an hour later, the entire garden was almost completely de-gnomed. It was easier now that one, they had Fred and George helping, and two, the three youngest could do it magically instead of by hand. Hermione, who was always to suffer the brunt of teasing, faced no exception today. George and Fred were relentless as always, with no sign of letting up.

She took it stride however, attacking the gnomes viciously with frustration all knew she would rather be taking out on somebody else.

Quidditch was once again the topic of discussion, and Harry was very much surprised how much Hermione had put forth into the argument that was going back between the three brothers. Harry piped in as much as he felt like it, but Ron would always beat him to the punch, only pausing in his arguments when Hermione wanted to say something.

There was definitely something there, Harry sensed, as he looked at his two friends with a fond smile on his face, but he figured it was better not to say anything. Especially no now with the twins so close and the fact that they would pounce on the two of them with their merciless teasing.

With a swipe to his forehead, where he was sweating rather profusely, Harry quickly made his way towards the house and into the kitchen for a glass of water. No less he probably could have conjured it himself, but he was glad for the escape. The smell of home cooking and the coolness of the air inside was welcomed a great deal.

Of course, as soon as he entered the kitchen he wished he hadn't.

For sure enough there she was, Ginny Weasley, all fiery red hair and brown eyes waving her wand aimlessly over a stack of potatoes who then begun to peel himself. It was obvious she didn't notice his presence, of if she had, she did acknowledge him, just sitting at the table, her chin in the palm of one hand as she waved her wand in the other.

She looked beautiful. Enchanting. His heart sped up and his palms were sweating even more now, and he opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Harry figured he should have known it would be like this. Would be this uncomfortable. This hard.

He had not known when he was doing that day all those months ago after Dumbledore's funeral, but he had thought it was the right thing. Only now, as he looked at her so fondly, he can't remember why it had been the right thing.

Why it hurt so much seeing her when this had been his choice.

He was about to walk away-- had actually turned on his heel to do so when she finally spoke.

"Hi, Harry."

Harry turned back slowly, offering her a small smile as he waved his own wand and conjured up a glass of water mid air. "Hi, Ginny," he said just before grabbing the glass in front of him and swallowing the contents in a single gulp.

"I heard you were here, sorry I didn't come down to greet you."

Harry waved her off with his hand as he set the glass to the side on a random counter, "You should, uh, you should be careful with that. You're underage." He sounded like a bumbling idiot and he hated himself for it.

Ginny rolled her eyes and continued to watch the bewitched potatoes, "They can't tell that it's me in a house full of wizards. They expect mum and dad to enforce the rules, which they do, but if I get caught it will be my parents not the ministry, so keep a look out will you?" She grinned cheekily at him from across the room and all of a sudden he felt, very, very close to her.

Even though he was almost an entire room away.

She wasn't acting any different around him. Did not seem upset towards him in any way, and Harry almost felt a flood of relief run through him. Starting believing that maybe this wouldn't be as difficult as he thought it would be.

He watched, almost entranced, as she opened herself to say something but was cut off almost immediately as Mrs. Weasley came bounding into the kitchen. Ginny immediately dropped her wand and picked up the peeler and began skinning the potatoes. Mrs. Weasley was none the wiser and looked at Harry with concern.

"You look a bit peaky there, Harry. You alright?"

Harry sent a fleeting look towards Ginny who was trying her very best not to look at him, "It's just hot outside, that's all."

A look of utmost horror overcome Mrs. Weasley's face, "Oh, dear. I never meant for you to have to do the chores. Hermione either, here," she started to usher Harry towards the table were Ginny sat, "I'll finish with this and you and Ginny can finish peeling the potatoes."

"He really doesn't have to, Mum," Ginny said rather stiffly, eyeing her mother, "I can do it on my own."

Mrs. Weasley frowned at her daughter when Ginny wasn't looking, "Of course you can, dear. Why don't you just sit here and relax then? Dinner will be ready shortly." With a sniffle that sounded rather emotional, she waved her wand and almost immediately plates, saucers, cups, forks and knives came sailing across the room and began placing themselves at their rightful spots around the table.

Harry reached for a potato and the extra peeler.

"You really don't have to, Harry," Ginny said quietly, not bothering to look up at him.

"I know I don't," he replied as he began skinning the potato.

Ginny looked at him when he did this and smiled the smallest of smiles as she continued her own ministrations without even looking. In spite of himself, Harry smiled back. And despite the fact that they could both easily use magic to get the job done a lot sooner, they both continued to skin the potatoes, more slowly and carefully as ever. As if they were trying to draw out the moment.

Which was half the truth, because it was nice, Harry supposed as he looked at Ginny out of the corner of his eye, to be this close to each other without having to make up an excuse to do so.

So, in the silence of the Weasley kitchen, Harry and Ginny continued to skin the pile of potatoes in front of them, ignoring the not so subtle looks they sent each other in the process and pretending the situation was a lot more comfortable than it obviously was.

Dinner came more sooner than Harry had hoped, and was filled with boisterous laughter on behalf of the twins antics as George "accidentally" shot a spoonful of mashed potatoes in his brothers direction. Mrs. Weasley scolded them pretty heartily but no one could miss the smile lingering on her features afterwards.

Ginny sat at the far end of the table next to her father, far enough away from Harry for comfort, but still so close it made his skin boil in the most loving way. Fleur fed Bill off her own plate much to everyone else's dismay, but almost everyone took it in stride. Whereas last summer the girls sitting at the table would have muttered obscenities under their breaths, most of them looked on happily without complaint.

It seemed normal almost, actually looked normal, but as soon as this thought went through Harry's mind he would look at Bill and see the harsh scars glaring back at him. It was a harsh reminder of events past and yet to come.

Dessert was just about to be severed when a Pig came soaring through the open window, parchment clutched in his talons as the entire table roared with laughter at one of Fred's infamous jokes.

"Merlin," Mrs. Weasley groaned, clearly not happy about the interruption, "it never fails."

Mr. Weasley reached for the letter and scanned the hasty scrawl for a long moment. "It's for you, Ginny."

Ginny took the letter without so much as a thank you and ignored the curious gazes being cast in her direction. She ripped it open hastily and scanned the letter for a long moment before looking up, "It's from Luna," she said quietly, eyes immediately straying back to the parchment in front of her.

Pig drank a bit of water out of Mr. Weasley's cup before soaring off and out the window again.

Ginny let out a laugh of pure delight, "It says the Quibbler got word that McGonagall and Scrimgeour have finally come to an agreement," she paused for a long moment, as if reading and then rereading the letter again. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity she looked back up, the most peculiar look on her face, "Hogwarts is reopening September 1st ."

All that met her words was stunned silence.

(TBC)


	4. Facades

**Author's Notes:** Short update, sorry folks. It's been crazy at work lately. Bare with me, please.

* * *

_Chapter Three:_

Ginny knew it was going to be hard.

Hell, she had only gone over the situation in her mind time and time again for the past weeks. And every scenario she had thought of, every situation that had gone through her mind, had ended with the knowledge that no matter how she tried to change the situation, no matter how hard she tried, it was always be hard.

It was not even so much the fact that Harry broke up with her-- she didn't care much about that because she knew that sooner or later they would be back together. She opted for sooner rather than later, of course, but she had waited years for him, what was one more? Two? Maybe even five. She could wait, she knew, she had long since made up her mind that she could handle whatever was thrown her way. She would have to-- she knew that too.

What hurt the most was that she had to stand by and watch as somebody she cared so deeply for was hurting. What hurt was she had to stand by and watch knowing that if the situation were different she could help him, she could be there for him. But she couldn't. He didn't want her there-- and even if he did he was held back from saying so because of some stupid noble cause.

If Harry Potter, all green eyes and jet black hair, was anything it was noble. Ideally so, and she hated it. Hated it with every bone in her body. Hated it because if it were not for his damned nobility they would be together, they would be happy, and she would not be so miserable. He would not be so miserable, she was sure of it.

They would not have to sit in the kitchen and peel the bloody potatoes as an excuse to spend time together without rising any suspicion.

So, to alienate herself from the undeniable awkwardness between them and the pain in her heart that just seemed to follow her whenever he was around, when Harry, the twins, and Ron decided to go and play quidditch, she stayed behind. Sat on the stairs outside of the kitchen, an extendable ear next to her own and waited as her parents had what was sure to be the most important conversation concerning her to date.

Night grew older and darkness dimmed as a result almost as if life was laughing at her in some cruel and unusual way, Harry decided to pick that exact moment to walk right on up to the house. With his broom swung over his shoulder, and his skin sheen with a thin layer of sweat, Ginny could not even begin to ignore just how good he looked.

Ginny nearly groaned at the sight, but swallowed it almost immediately.

He gave her a slight grin that looked uncomfortable and surprised both. She returned it in stride, the extendable ear falling from the door and into her lap. "Hey."

Harry nodded his acknowledgement and didn't dare move a step closer-- which, Ginny figures, was probably a good thing. The two of them combined with physical closeness made for eventual circumstances that could lead to some very, very bad outcomes.

"What are you doing?" He nodded over her shoulder towards the kitchen.

"They are discussing," Ginny began with a high amount of distaste, "the possible future of my education."

"Your mum didn't look to happy about that announcement."

Ginny snorted in the most unladylike manner, "My mum hasn't been happy all summer."

Harry grinned that full-blown grin that made her hear do back flips, "I've heard. Apparently your rows have moved straight into the infamous category."

Ginny smiled back softly, "I think George used the word legendary, actually."

"Was there any chance he was embellishing just a tad bit?"

Ginny pretended to consider it for a moment before answering, "Not really. No."

The eventual point where Harry would either have to step closer or walk away came, almost too soon in her opinion, and even with the vaguest of steps she felt her pulse rate pick up immediately. Ginny wanted to reach out for him. Touch him-- as innocently as possible-- and a strangling feeling in her heart took hold of her when she realized she could not do that. She had known it, of course, but for some reason it took that very moment for it to finally hit.

It made her irrationally sad, that thought, realizing she should have worked harder to come to terms with it before he got here.

"I'm surprised," Harry began somewhat cautiously, clearing his throat, "that your parents are so worried about you going back… I mean, they seem the least likely ones to jump on that bandwagon."

"Everyone likes to pretend they didn't hear Ron when he announced he wasn't going back," Harry avoided her eyes when she said that, and she did not pretend to not know why, "but they did. It's put everyone on edge… I think they're afraid that I can't take care of myself."

Harry smirked that beautiful smirk of his, "which is absolutely bonkers, right?"

Ginny grinned impishly, "Of course. I grew up with six brothers and two-- Merlin love them-- rather crazy parents. You'd think they would realize I can more than handle myself."

"That's just what parents do, I guess."

The smile was there on his face, but Ginny could see the emotion behind it was anything less than humor. An awkward silence fell between them, the air around them growing tenser as the atmosphere sort of became stifling within the next few moments. It was odd, Ginny found in spite of herself, that in the past they had been able to talk about anything and the silences in between were comfortable. Sought out.

Now they were tense and awkward and she just added to another thing on her list of things she hated.

"Look Ginny…" he trailed off just as suddenly as he started and Ginny could immediately see what the next words were going to be out of his mouth without him having to say it.

It was as clear as day, and she knew better than else that Harry, for all his nobility and boyish charm that she loved dearly, could not live with a guilty conscience. She waved him off before he even got to continue. Tried to smile genially, but knew like the one he had tried to pass off before, it was only forced and fake.

"Don't," Ginny said, voice quiet and seeming to echo throughout the night, "let's just not, okay?"

"I don't want you to think--"

"I don't," she assured him, the small smile she offered beginning to feel less fake, "I never would."

Of course she didn't. Of course she didn't think he was intentionally trying to hurt her-- which, Ginny knew, was what he was going to say. He felt guilty, she also knew. It was written all over him, in his face, his stance, the way his shoulders slumped even more than ever before. He feels guilty, and he shouldn't, but Ginny cannot help but want him to-- just the littlest, tiniest bit. All because she was hurting, and that selfish, miserable part of her wanted him to hurt too.

Even though she knew he was and for reasons that were a lot more important than their pending romance.

She wants to say more. She wants to say she misses him, that she misses them, but she knows deep down doing so would only cause more awkwardness and more pain-- two things, miraculously, they have an abundance of already.

"Oi!" George's voice broke through the hazing and uncomfortable silence, breaking their thoughts and cutting through the tension between them, "Harry, get your arse back here with our water!"

Harry gave her an apologetic smile, his face a mask of so many emotions she couldn't decipher between them all-- or even begin to try. He looks like she supposes she did minutes earlier, like he wanted to say something, like what he had to say was burning the tip of his tongue, but not so surprisingly he does not say it. He says nothing, just stands there with his broom swung over his shoulder looking as sexy as she's ever seen him and uncomfortable as ever.

"Go," Ginny urged, her voice sounding less like her own.

And just like that, just that suddenly he was gone again. Trudging off in the opposite direction waterless and his shoulders slumped even more than before.

It was hard, just as she imagined it would be, watching him go. But Ginny had lately come to terms with the fact that the situation, no matter what way it was destined to work out, was probably always going to just keep getting harder.

With a haggard sigh she pulled the extendable ear and placed it carefully on the door. She had more important things to worry about. Things that needed her full and undivided attention.

Especially since as soon as her ear was flush against the door it swung open, causing her to fall forward and half way into the kitchen. And there her mother and father stood, looking older beyond their years and more forlorn than they ever had before.

"Your mother and I have reached a decision," her father said, looking gray around the temples and as tired as he had for weeks.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Ginny stood and knew somehow she was not going to like what she was about to hear.

Throwing a fleeting look over her shoulder, where she could almost fondly imagine Harry flying through the night skies with ease and confidence that suited him so well, Ginny followed her parents inside.

(TBC)


	5. Mistakes

_Author's notes:_ it's been forever, I know. Real life issues, my apologies. Unedited due to time restraints. Next update to come shortly.

* * *

_Chapter Five:_

Harry could not sleep.

He tossed and turned, closed his eyes and counted sheep. He even tried to count back in his head the former Ministry's of Magic's. He tried everything to no avail. Harry closed his eyes and tried to think of Ginny… but all that did was serve as a constant reminder that she was just down the hall and he was nowhere near as close to her as he wanted to be.

And he wanted to be close to her, he needed to be close to her, but he would not let himself. Knew he could not do that to her, could not put her in harms way. He cared about her too much, feared for her safety too much to be selfish and let himself act on those silly feelings he felt when he was with her.

So Harry continued to count sheep. Counted backwards from a thousand… twice.

Nothing worked. Absolutely nothing.

Turning onto his stomach, Harry punched his pillow a couple of times before resting his head on it. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. Tried to think of nothing but complete emptiness, blackness, but nothing. A thousand thoughts ran through his mind, each one more terrifying than the last, each one depicting images of things he feared were yet to come.

It was like the boggart he saw Mrs. Weasley fight in his fifth year, only it was more terrifying and no matter what he tried it would not disappear.

In utter frustration brought on by lack of sleep and too many thoughts, Harry threw back his sheet, threw on a shirt that was laying nearby and angrily reached out for his glasses. He found them just where he had left them- on his bedside table, and pushed them onto his face rather forcefully.

A glass of water sounded soothing, and perhaps a quick fly around the grounds… something to help clear his mind. Make him feel more at ease. Harry made his way out of his stuffy room and down the hallway on his tip toes, making his best effort not to wake any of the other sleeping patrons that resided within the Burrow's walls.

It did not seem to matter however, everyone was peacefully sleeping, readying themselves for the events that would ensue tomorrow. Or later that day however they chose to look at it. Harry did not like either explanation, despite his happiness for Bill and Fleur, he was not looking forward to the wedding at all.

Out of habit as he made his way down the stairs, Harry cast a glance towards Ginny's room. Frowning at the closed door at the end of the empty hallway. An ache in his chest made itself known then, and he pushed it away immediately with everything he had in him. Forced memories old and new, flashes of red hair and brown eyes out of his mind reluctantly.

They used to give him comfort, those memories, now all they did was serve Harry another reminder of all he had lost.

Downstairs was dark and seemed abandoned almost and Harry did not mind it one bit. Silence and solitude had become his friend over the past months, and in the midst of so many Weasleys and constant chatter, he had often found he missed his new friend-- when it wasn't busy being his worst enemy that is. For with silence and solitude he was left with nothing but himself and his thoughts.

Two things that as of lately did not produce lovely outcomes.

As he entered what appeared to be an empty kitchen, Harry made his way over to the sink and grabbed a glass from a cupboard above. Proceeded to pour himself some water even though transfiguring it would have been the more logical and easier choice.

Sometimes simplicity was a good thing, Harry figured, and besides he was more than grateful for the distraction.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Harry whirled around at the new voice, reaching for his wand before silently cursing himself when he realized he had not grabbed it before coming down. It did not matter though, he turned to see familiar eyes and an even more familiar crooked smile staring back at him, and the tension that had reached its boiling point inside of him started to edge away.

He even smiled the slightest smile in return.

That was until he caught Ginny Weasley, even more beautiful than ever in the pale moonlight that shone in through the windows, wearing nothing but a white cotton nightgown that left little to the imagination and a smile he adored and missed all the same.

His heart rate picked up, the traitorous organ beating rapidly against his ribcage as he fought the sudden weakening in his knees.

Merlin, he missed her.

Catching himself before his thoughts could become even more depressing (like they often did when Harry thought about last term and their lunches by the lake) he leaned against the counter behind him, and took a long sip of his water. Wondered just why the crystal glass felt like it was about slip out of his usually nimble fingers.

"Yeah," he croaked out, his voice not even resembling his own. "You?"

Ginny nodded as she slid down off of the counter she had been perched upon, following his lead and leaning against it instead. "Didn't mean to scare you, Harry."

"You didn't," he lied almost immediately.

An uncomfortable silence- something he had never associated with her- pulled the two of them in and became stifling as it went on. He knew more than anything she must be feeling the same way- uncomfortable and on edge- because not only did one look in her direction tell him so, Harry just knew Ginny that well. Knew her favorite color, favorite sweater, favorite food. Knew almost all there was to know about Ginny Weasley, and he figured, somewhat distastefully, that was what angered him the most.

That he could know her so well, know what it was like to hold her hand and kiss her beautiful lips, and hold her so dear and not be able to experience those things again.

To be standing in the same room, like they had countless times since he had arrived at the Burrow, but still be miles and miles apart. An entire country, for that matter. That was what it felt like anyway.

"How did, er, it go with your Mum and Dad?"

It was a lame, stuttered attempt at conversation, Harry knew, but it was all he had.

The red head shrugged her shoulders. "Dad talked some sense into my mum. I'm going back."

He nodded, a relief washing over him at the sound of her words. No where might be safe anymore- not the Burrow, not Hogwarts, but the idea of Ginny being safe at Hogwarts made him feel better than he had in ages. He had expected it, the final outcome of what must have been an ongoing battle between mother and daughter, but it still made him feel loads better hearing it.

"That's good," he replied as brightly as he could manage, but it did not work very well. She smiled a soft, half smile and he grinned dimly back.

Ginny looked at him strangely for a few long seconds. Stared actually, as if she were trying to figure out the missing piece of a puzzle. Her gaze was strong and piercing, and Harry started to feel just a little bit intimidated as the seconds ticked on. So much so that he eventually looked away, flushing red profusely.

"What?"

Ginny seemed to snap out of her trance, startled but the edge in his tone. "Nothing."

"Obviously it's something. What is it?"

She pressed her lips together in a thin line, as if debating her next move- or words. Finally, almost timidly, she said, "I was just thinking about you," her face flushed even deeper than his a mere few minutes before, and she laughed nervously. "Us, I mean," her brown eyes met lively green ones to only look away a second later. "This is weird."

Weird didn't even begin to describe it, although it was not the first time that particular notion had passed through his own mind.

"I mean," Ginny rushed on, "you're here and I'm here, and all I want to do is kiss you and I can't. I want to talk to you like we used to talk and I can't," she paused, swallowing thickly as she looked anywhere but him. "I hate this."

She was saying everything he felt, and it just made the situation that much harder. Harry understood completely how she was feeling because he was feeling that way too. Alone, helpless, and afraid.

"I know," was all he managed to say in return. It was the truth but it did not do much to ease the feelings that were running rapidly through him.

Everything was in a complete disarray. On one had Harry wanted desperately to kiss her and on the other hand he knew he needed to leave. Or send her away before that even had the chance of happening. Not only was he pretty sure the Weasleys- save for Ron- had no idea bout them (which would create a very big problem if one of them just happened to find them mid snog in the middle of the kitchen) but kissing Ginny- something he desperately wanted to do- meant acknowledging that he needed her more than he needed to let on.

Kissing Ginny meant it would be that much harder to leave. Harder than he knew it already would be which he was pretty sure was going to be damn near impossible.

"Do you think he we can survive this, Harry?"

It was not a simple question by any means and Harry's mind reeled with all the possibilities it was asking. Could they survive the war? This indefinite separation while he goes off and hunts Voldermort and horcuxes?

He wanted to say yes, to all the above, but Harry knew that in the end it was all out of his hands. That he could (and would) do everything in his power to achieve the end he wanted, but ultimately he had no power of knowing what the future would bring.

"I sure hope so."

It was the truth. The absolute truth, and like a knife it sliced right through him as hope swarmed through him and he was reminded of all he had to lose.

With surprise Harry watched as Ginny pushed herself away from the counter she had been leaning up against and crossed the kitchen towards him. Putting himself immediately on guard, Harry took a cautious step back, only to realize he had no where to go. Sooner than he could think, Ginny had trapped him between herself in the counter that was the cutting into his back.

It was not a particularly bad place to be, but if his heart had any say- it was beating so furiously and rapidly that he could hardly breathe- he needed an immediate escape.

"What are you doing?" he rasped out, tracing her beautiful face as an honest and true smile crossed her features.

"Can I hug you? Is that allowed? Friends hug, don't they?" she was still smiling, but almost like a switch had been clicked off it had dimmed.

There was an edge in her tone, an amount of unleashed anger and faux happiness he recognized in his own from time to time.

"We are friends aren't we?"

"Of course we are," he rushed to explain, suddenly feeling rather silly and childish. A hug was just a hug wasn't it?

A resounding 'yes' echoed within his head with finality and surety. Of course that was until her arms wrapped around his neck, bringing the two of them closer than they had been in months. A hug was not just a hug, he knew then, especially not if it involved Ginny Weasley. He had been hugged many times-- by Hermione and Mrs. Weasley, but this was different. He had hugged Ginny countless times, but even then it was still different.

It was new but still reeked of a familiarity he craved. He could smell the ginger he will always associate with her, he could feel her soft skin against his own, her body pressed up against his own.

It was tantalizing and forbidding at the same time and as soon as it had started it was over. Lasted maybe a few seconds at most before the both of them pulled away as if they had been scorched by the contact.

His skin felt feverish and his head light as he stared into the depths of Ginny's brown eyes. It was like something was between them, pulling them closer for they kept moving closer and closer with ever passing second and both were too helpless to stop it.

"I miss you, Harry," Ginny said quietly, her voice a mere whisper, as her face inched closer and closer to his own.

Her words broke his heart and made him ache deep down into the pit of his stomach. He missed her too but refused to say it. Months ago he would have, the person he used to be would not have hesitated. But he was no longer that person.

Then, before he could even think twice, before he could even do anything to stop it, her lips were just a millimeter away from his own. So close, and his will to pull away was obliterated. Taken away as her beautiful and kissable lips found his own.

And Harry did the stupidest thing he ever could have done.

He kissed her back.

(TBC)


	6. Mishaps

Chapter Six:

Like euphoria after winning a Quidditch match, feelings and thoughts both joyous and fearful consumed Ginny as she wrapped her arms around Harry's neck tighter, pulling him closer. Lips fought against lips for control, and while months- what felt like an eternity- ago this act would have been somewhat clumsy and shy, all that was left now was surety and a feeling that only resembled that of total and complete rightness.

This was not what she had planned.

Not in the least.

All Ginny had wanted was a hug. Honestly. Selfishly, and rather stupidly she had sought him out for some much needed physical contact that the two of them had desperately and silently been wanting. It was convenient for her to be in the kitchen when he appeared, but not planned, and it worked out all the same. It hurt like nothing she had ever felt to see him standing there earlier that night with his broom over his shoulders looking better than ever.

Harry had sparked lust and attraction within her once again, and while those feelings of adoration and dare she say love could be pushed away, the lovely feelings that were swarming deep within her belly could not be. Attraction was hard to fight especially when two people like her and Harry had an excess amount of it.

Older, skillful hands wrapped around her waist bringing her forward as her body pushed against his in all the right places. Harry's fingers dug into her back, the pressure screaming with pleasure mixed with an amount of tolerable pain. Her own fingers- with nails chewed to the point of stubs- twirled the sleek black hair at the nape of his neck, her fingers running over that spot she knew from experience he loved. Ginny smiled against his lips as she felt a lovely shiver run up his spine.

Almost as soon as the smile landed on her lips in faded immediately as the pressure of Harry's fingers went away and instead his hands were used to push her away.

Ginny stumbled backwards, breathing haggard as she stared, wide eyed, at the boy in front of her with ravenous green eyes.

"We can't," was all he said, running his hands over his eyes as she brought her fingers up to her lips. Feeling the place where just seconds ago his had been.

Was it possible to miss someone to the point where you ached for them even though they were standing right in front of you? Ginny felt the loss of his arms around her and it hit her like a tidal wave and she knew she would make a deal with the devil to feel them again.

Harry simply meant that much to her.

Being this close to him and not simply being with him was killing her.

"Why not?" was her only reply, the edge in her tone drowned out by the hitch in her voice as she desperately tried to catch her breath.

"You know why not."

"Harry," she began, but the argument was useless. She knew, he knew, it was a pointless argument and Ginny knew he could not be persuaded to see things from her view. If only she could kiss him again…

She was moving forward with one, large step before she realized it.

"Ginny, don't." Harry's voice sounded strangled and full of emotion.

She stopped, mid step and sighed heavily. "Harry…" his name was another sigh, a whisper and she had trouble deciding whether or not attacking him would be the right move.

Piercing green eyes met her own and stared for what seemed like several, agonizing days as breathing returned to normal and heart rates slowed considerably. It was a mistake, kissing him before, but she had not been able to help herself. He had just been there, and the way he had looked… She just had to.

Only now she wished she hadn't. Now she wished more than everything it had never happened because here they were after taking one step forward only to end up five steps back. In the same place as before only it was drastically different. She was left wanting more and painfully aware of what she was missing.

Not just the terrific snogging- although she was not ashamed to admit it was nothing less than perfection- but closeness. That feeling of completion. Rightness. That utterly indescribable feeling she has only ever felt with the person standing right there in front of her.

Harry was looking at her with a look she had never seen before and as her mind was practically yelling at her to look away she couldn't. Ginny was drawn to him, her eyes on his with no intention of looking away. Something was pulling at her in all different directions but mostly towards him.

And then, as if Merlin himself had smiled down upon her, Harry took one huge step towards her.

And kissed her. Again.

Slowly and leisurely with every bit of passion she knew he had in him. His hands were in her hair, tangling it considerably but she did not care. Could not focus on anything other than his lips on her own to care. Her mind was being pulled back into happier times, elation flowing through her veins like a drug. Her hands were every where at once, under the thin t- shirt he wore, at the nape of neck playing with that strand of hair her fingers always strayed to.

Ginny kissed Harry with everything she had in her, and could almost feel herself breathing a silent sigh of relief when he did the same. When he kissed her like he had all the months ago when they were considerably younger, and more innocent. When feelings were new and fresh and their future was not looming above them like a dark cloud that threatened to spill any minute. Ginny missed those days and somewhere deep inside of her she knew no matter what she would never get them back.

It did not matter though. Harry managed to kiss those thoughts away and with the gentle touch of his fingers over her feverishly hot skin, they disappeared one by one.

Harry started to pull away, to slow his kisses, but Ginny would not let him.

She simply did not want to let go.

Her arms held him closer. Her lips did not want to leave his. With every contact the eventual parting they would have to endure once again loomed closer, and with every contact she dreaded the next kiss for her own fear warned her it would be the last. She felt melancholy and overly dramatic, but could not find it in herself to care.

"Ginny," her name whispered from his lips like a plea. A prayer. Maybe even both.

She pressed her eyes closed tighter, held him closer. "I know."

A sigh, heavy and sedated and finally they both pulled away from each other. Ginny took a step back and rubbed her fingers over her tired eyes, ignoring the sudden stinging she felt in them. She wanted to plead with him. To scream and yell about how it was not fair. None of it. About how much she missed him and how missing him as much as she had been was beginning to drive her insane.

Yet she did nothing. Stood back and breathed a deep, meaningful breath that felt like ice as it passed her lips. She was the farthest thing from weak, and deep down she knew that Harry did not need one of her girly tantrums that would probably only made him feel worse than he already did. The situation was tragic enough on its own, and Ginny had never been and would never be the type of girl to make it even more so.

"There is a million things I could be rowing with you about right now," a gentle smile tugged at her lips when she saw his look of surprise. "I mean, honestly, kissing me like that. In my parents kitchen no less."

"Sorry 'bout that," Harry offered his attempt at a smile and it turned out to be half assed at best.

"No you're not."

"You're right," he grinned, the tiniest hint of laughter reaching those eyes she loved so much. "I'm really not."

"I know why you have to do this," Ginny began cautiously after a long pause. That brief, careless moment of teasing and banter was over just like she had imagined it would be. It was gone and the seriousness took them over once gain. "I understand. I don't like it, but I understand."

"I didn't chose this, Ginny," Harry said, his voice on the verge of irritation. With her, the situation, she could not tell.

"You don't think I know that?" she appeased, her voice just above a whisper. "I do."

He opened his mouth to say something, closed it, then repeated the process again. "I don't want to leave you," was what finally came out, his voice quiet and resigned. "Any of this."

She smiled sadly. "I know that too."

A stumble, a crash off in the distance and Harry and Ginny jumped apart even though they were already far enough apart not to raise any questions. Like some old cliché that would only happen to them, Ron came stumbling in, looking rumpled and tired, and just a little sleep deprived. He rubbed his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the kitchen, wand in one hand while his other scratched his head.

"What the bloody hell are you two doing down here?" He looked between the two of them with peaked curiosity, before turning narrowed eyes towards his younger sister. "You should be in bed."

Ginny rolled her eyes at her brother. "Don't be a prat, Ron."

"The last thing Harry needs is you mucking up things that are already mucked up enough."

With a quick glance towards the person in question, Ginny smiled softly towards Harry and realized that their conversation was no doubt over and would most likely not be resumed any time in the near future.

"I think Harry is the best judge as to what he does and does not need," she said in parting, her feet carrying her past her brother and out of the kitchen.

With a look over her shoulder, she smiled softly towards Harry and was not the least bit surprised to find his eyes already on her. Looking at her with that same look she had seen countless times before- the one that said he was no doubt undressing her with his eyes. She loved that look… hated it too.

It caused her to feel rather bittersweet right then.

Her mind was running ramped with a million thoughts going in every direction possible. It wasn't a recent development in the least, being left alone and on the war path with her mother for most of the summer had left her with a lot of down time in her room with nothing but herself and her thoughts. Thoughts of the future, the past, of Harry and her family. Thoughts of things that intrigued her and frightened her both.

While Ginny made her way up the stairs and towards her room, her heart felt heavier and her mind felt numb as thoughts slowed and finally gave her a minutes rest. Finally as she entered her room and made her way past a sleeping Hermione, there was only one thing on her mind.

As she slipped underneath her covers, an odd, somewhat sad smile on her face, glorious images of her and Harry and the memory of his lips on hers carried her to sleep.

(TBC)


End file.
